Finding the Light
by Pegasus Knight Salvo
Summary: just s short story I thought of a little while back. I may not even continue this. Hope people read this and provide feedback. Perhaps I'll continue if I get enough positive comments. Constructive criticism is wished for. OC person, not world this time.


Finding the Light

Chapter One: The Arena

The tunnel leading into the arena was dark, the only light coming from the barred entrance to the sandy pit that was soon to be stained scarlet with the blood of an unlucky soul. A young woman paced restlessly, her heart fluttering in her chest, butterflies in her stomach. With sweaty palms, she attempted to dry them off on the sides of her pants. She took in deep breaths and walked toward the barred entrance. This light…the light burning upon the sands of the arena was the only time she had ever seen the sun. She was born in the darkness, collared like a dog and chained to a wall unless she was being trained in the arts of killing.

In the faint light illuminating the tunnel, the woman was young, but not a child. Wearing worn pants made out of tanned hide and a cloth tunic, she was not very well armored. She had nothing to guard her feet from the burning sands that covered the ground. Her arms were covered in blood stained bandages, covering half healed wounds, crisscrossing over both new and old scars.

She had learned over the years that the arena which she lived in is in a land called Jehanna, part of the continent of Magvel. Not that she understood what importance this fact meant to anything in general.

She did not know much, other than what she has been taught. Killing others was the only way for her to survive, and so she became quick at surviving, agile and nimble, yet strong enough to kill without mercy. Heck, she doesn't even know what 'mercy' is, much less partake in it.

Her name was given to her by her owner, the master, whose name was unknown to her. Given the name Hamartia, a name whose meaning is 'tragic flaw'. She was the tragic flaw that ended up costing her opponents their lives. She is what others called a 'myrmidon', but all Hamartia knew was how to use the blade given to her. She was lightly built, and had a good sense of balance. She had a supple frame, and a great battle instinct. Her hair was long, having only been cut when Hamartia felt like it, which was not often. It was tied back, and still fell to the back of her knees. With her pale blue hair and her sea foam green eyes, if one looked past her scars, one could see a childish innocence about her.

A voice broke through her reverie. The next match has been decided. A challenger has dared to enter the arena, in hopes of fortune and fame. The voice of her master, the man with no name, boomed across the sands, causing her to freeze like a startled rabbit.

"Today is a monumental day, for today, the challenger actually stands a chance of winning!"

Roars of approval could be heard. Hamartia's heart sunk as she gripped the hilt of her blade nervously.

"This man…this man garbed in thick armor, has slain a record twelve of our gladiators in a row! His next opponent, the girl who all of you know well! She kills without mercy! Hamartia!"

The barred gate began to lift, giving Hamartia her cue to enter the sands, to walk into the blazing light of the sun. Jeering broke out as soon as she was visible to the spectators. How could this puny girl be a gladiator?

Hamartia looked at her opponent, when her eyes adjusted to the light, who towered over her. Her breathing halted momentarily at what she saw. A heavily armored…what was the term? The word came to her mind in a second. A Knight, masters of close combat with their spears.

For the first time in a battle, she would be at a disadvantage. She knew that spears were stronger than swords, yet she had never faced a spearman before. She drew her weapon, her iron blade, and waited for the beginning of the fight. The knight lifted his visor and leered at her. "You're going to be my thirteenth victory, wench!"

Hamartia looked at the knight. She could not speak very well, having been raised to follow orders and not to speak. "I will win, and you will die. The outcome is set." She replied in choppy sentences. The man snarled like a beast and lowered his visor and got into a fighting stance.

Hamartia did the same, and the arena fell silent. Her owner lifted his hand in the air. Hamartia tensed, anticipating its fall.

When the hand fell, the battle began.

To Hamartia's surprise, it was her opponent who struck out first. She sidestepped the spear, dashing close to her opponent, slashing with her blade. Her blade left a decent sized dent in the armor covering the chest, but no other damage could be seen. Just as quickly as she struck, she was dancing away from another spear strike.

Her breathing rate was even, although she could feel the sand burning through her calloused feet. She looked at the dent upon his armor and quickly deduced a strategy. She leaped at him once more, striking the chest area a second time, and without giving the knight a second to react, she hit the armor a third time before finally retreating from her increasingly furious opponent.

If she kept this up, she'd eventually outlast the stupid knight. Her confidence faltered, however, when the knight charged her like a bull would. She froze, not knowing which direction to go. The knight raised his lance…

…And stumbled clumsily in the sand. The crowd laughed at this and cheered as Hamartia vaulted over him in an elegant leap and landed behind him, rushing forward with a slash at the back of his knees. She felt her blade pierce the leather and slash into the knight's flesh, finally drawing blood, which caused the crowd to grow louder.

The knight, roaring in pain, turned quicker than the myrmidon had thought possible and caught her in the chest with the butt of his lance, sending her sliding across the sand on her back, stunned. She gasped for air that was hard to come, panting heavily. She was winded, lucky not to have been knocked out.

A shadow loomed over her, causing her to look up to see the knight standing above her, lance already coming down upon her. She began to roll to the right, but it was not quick enough. The spear pierced through the flesh of her left shoulder into the ground. Without so much of a cry of pain, she tore free of the spear, feeling her flesh rip like paper. She kicked out at the knight's injured knee, causing him to reel away in pain, giving Hamartia the time she needed to get herself some distance from the man.

She was lucky, in a sense. Her right arm was her sword arm, so she could still fight. Blood flowed down her left arm freely, dripping to the sand from her fingertips. Her vision blurred, alerting her to the necessity of finishing this prolonged battle. She felt a deadly calm come over her as the knight advanced, the blood covered tip of his spear glinting like a ruby in the light.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and launched at the knight, seeming to vanish into thin air. The knight lowered his iron lance and looked around, creating the perfect opening for the myrmidon's strike. A blur passed by him and a screeching tear of metal could be heard across the arena. The attacks earlier in the battle weakened the front of the knight's armor, and the first of the flurry of attacks to come had ripped open a small portion of it.

A second blur of a figure, and another strike, crisscrossing the tear with another one, forming an 'x' over his chest. He staggered back, but not in time to do any good when the third strike came, this time piercing the center of the 'x' over his torn armored chest. The last thing he saw before the light faded was the young woman's eyes…which were looking at him coldly.

"I told you" She whispered to him, as she withdrew the blade, ending his life. "The outcome was set"

The knight did not reply, for he was no longer living.

After the battle, she was back in her cell, chained to a wall and held down as a crude excuse of a doctor stitched her wound together, then wrapping it in even more bandages, not bothering to remove the now soiled ones covering healing wounds.

An hour later, she was alone, finally able to rest. The other cells in this row were silent; their inhabitants killed earlier today. There were at least a hundred total cells hidden underneath the arena. The only thing they would ever be able to sleep upon would be a cold dirt floor.

She was born in the cell she was in now, her mother being a gladiator herself before someone came to her cell and…

Hamartia shuddered at the thought. She was glad that she was covered in scars, that she would look unappealing to men. Sadly enough, there were no scars yet to appear on her face, for she had learned that a blow to the head was quite fatal. She heard the click of the lock of her door and stood up, tensing.

Into her cell strode the keeper, the man who provided the gladiators with food and water. She also heard the sounds of…strange occurrences when he entered a couple of the other cells. Sounds that greatly disturbed the myrmidon.

The keeper had never actually come into her cell before, and the deviation from the pattern of daily life frightened her.

"You did well today, dearie" The voice of the keeper was as oily as his filthy appearance. The look he gave her made her feel like slapping him, but the Law forbade her to do so. The Law of the arena: As a slave, you must obey the free. The punishment for even speaking against the keeper or any of his henchmen was death.

"Thank you, sir." She bowed her head, keeping her gaze upon the floor.

The keeper's hand cupped her chin and lifted her head up. "Your master says you are finally old enough to continue your bloodline!" He said greedily, his beady eyes glinting.

"Blood…line?" Hamartia was confused. Were they finally going to kill her? No…they said 'continue', so…what were they going to do?

"Yes, bloodline, stupid wench!" The hand cupping her chin tightened. "In other words, they're going to pair you up with man and…"

"No."

The keeper's eyes grew cold. "What did you say?" He growled.

"I will not allow that to happen" Her heart was beating rapidly. She was disobeying a free man!

The keeper snarled and drew out a knife. "Then your life is forfeit!" He snapped and lunged at her.

She dodged the knife and grabbed his head with both of her hands and slammed his face into the wall. The man fell limp and dropped to the floor. Hamartia panicked, hyperventilating. She defended herself, so she was in the right, right? No…she disobeyed him, so she was to be put to death!

She reached for the knife and raised it to the leather collar around her throat. She began to saw through it, wincing when she nicked her neck with the blade.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she was freed from the collar that had been around her neck for almost her entire life. She fled the open cell door and ran down the hall. How was she to get outside? There was another arena battle going on…She ran away from the entrance to the arena and soon came across some stairs. She vaulted the stairs, in desperation and found a closed door. She tried the handle and found it unlocked, this was where the keeper had probably come from, the myrmidon thought to herself as she opened the door and saw…people!

So many people close to her in person, not laughing or leering at her! She was now in what seemed to be the entrance hall. She looked around and saw light, light that she only saw when she fought. She begged her hammering heart to slow down as she neared the entrance, or rather, her exit. She pulled her hair tie loose and her hair flowed around her, also free of its confines. Somehow, she felt lighter, and now her heart was not pounding in fear, but in anticipation. She took a deep breath and for the first time in her life, she gave a hint of a smile.

Hamartia took her first steps out of the arena and into the light.


End file.
